The girls walked through the field in the darkness, stepping between the rows of dead foliage toward the tin building. It was a leaning structure with a rusted roof. Helen unlatched the door and muscled it open. Inside were wooden barrels with rusty rings and dry-rotted tops. Helen rolled one outside, spinning it on its rim. She popped the top and positioned the barrel beneath the gutter spout of the shed.

“Don’t just stand there,” said Helen. “Help me. These things ain’t exactly light.”

“What’re we doing?” asked Marigold.

But Helen wasn’t listening to her. She was already rolling another barrel with Laughing Girl. They placed it beneath the eave of the tin roof.

When three barrels were positioned around the shed, the sky opened itself. The smacking raindrops got louder and sounded like a mighty waterfall. The shower cooled Marigold’s red hair, and it made her wonder about Maggie. She wondered where she was and if she was safe. She hoped Maggie could see the rain.

The rain fell harder. It pelted the tin roof and made noises so loud it sounded like a train. Water ran across the tin roof and trickled into the barrels.

“Four months and six days,” said Helen again. “That’s almost half a year without water. Four months and six long days.”

The girls stood inside the shed, watching a downpour saturate the field around them. But not Helen. She was out in it, letting it mat her hair against her head and her clothes to her body. To Marigold, the rain was the smell she liked best. It smelled and tasted like some kind of miracle. And it sounded even better.

Rachel broke the silence by saying to Marigold, “Lawrence said he’s gonna take me with him when he leaves for Birmingham.”

Marigold only looked at her with a warm smile. Water dripped from Rachel’s brow and from her strands of light hair.

Rachel went on. “He said we’s gonna buy a house, said we’s gonna settle down and, you know, make a family.”

Marigold touched Rachel on the shoulder. She felt a tingling beneath her hand that ran up her arm, through her head, then down her legs. It was such a strong sensation of loneliness that it almost made her stomach turn upside down. The tingling became stronger and stronger. She released Rachel’s shoulder and steadied her breathing. But to Marigold’s surprise, Rachel didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. She was smiling and watching the rain.

“He said he loved me,” Rachel added. “He loves me.”

“Love,” Laughing Girl said. “May lightning strike him dead if he is lying to you.”

The sky flashed again.

Twenty-Seven
Motor Inns